Cold, Cold Heart
by roseateglow
Summary: Postrescue, Kate chooses Sawyer. But she is restless and misses Jack. But Jack has gotten over her, or so it seems, so Kate takes matters into her own hands.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I popped in my little orange TV guide disk the other day and watched the mini-doc about "Whatever the Case May Be," and this quote was what really inspired me to write this story: "When Kate has her mind set on something, she's going to do whatever she can to achieve it." - Damon Lindelof. So what lengths would Kate go to to get what she wants most? Would she even consider the consequences? Basic character death spoilers for those who haven't seen season 2, but that's pretty much it. Title inspired by the Norah Jones song.

_I've tried to hard, my dear, to show that you're my every dream. Yet you're afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme. A memory from your lonesome past keeps us so far apart. Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart.  
_

"Boat."

With that single word from Sun, they were rescued. Their island lives were over, thanks to a navigational error by a coast guard ship. While the stunned crew made anchor, Kate and the others went to collect their things. It had been Jack who asked to the ship's crew to exhume the bodies of their fellow survivors to put into the standard coffins the ship carried. Seven bodies for seven coffins: the marshal, Joanna, Boone, Scott, Shannon, Ana-Lucia and Libby.

She watched the procession glumly, then went to her shelter to pack. While she stuffed things into her bag, Sawyer dropped by and handed her a little blue book.

"What's this?" She asked as she took it from it.

"Joanna's passport. Thought you might like to hang onto that for a while," He indicated for her to open it. She did, and saw that he had finished putting her picture on it. "Don't think they've figured out you were on the plane yet." He added. "Doc told everyone to keep quiet about you being the fugitive and all. So you're safe for now."

Her smile was the gratitude she couldn't say out loud.

"You got a place to stay once we get back to civilization?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of disbelief. "I was on the run for a long time. What do you think?"

"I got a place in Tennessee. Nothing big, two bedrooms, if you need a place to stay for a while. Nice little house. Cops don't look for fugitives in the backwoods."

She bit her lip and felt her cheeks turning red. "Sure. By the time they figure out the mix-up, we'll disappear. Thanks, Sawyer."

"No problem, Freckles." He winked at her. "You'd look good in overalls."

She rolled her eyes and sighed at him, watching him walk to his shelter. She watched Jack pass him and head toward her, and her face fell. In the whirl of events, she had almost forgotten about him and what he had said to her only days before. She raised a finger to her lips as if trying to remember the way they had felt against her own. She watched him come closer and noticed he was wearing his pack.

"Hey," he said as he came up to stand in front of her.

"Hey," she replied, trying to busy herself with gathering her belongings.

"I'm going into the jungle with Michael, Locke and Sayid, and a couple of the crew are coming with us. To find Walt."

She flashed him a concerned look. "Now?"

He nodded, looking into the forest of trees beyond the line of sand. She followed his gaze for a moment, then went back to cramming things in her bag.

"You okay?" He asked suddenly. She glanced up at him.

"I'm fine."

He laughed, and her heart skipped a beat to see that smile again.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he said shaking his head. "It's just that you're normally the one who always wants to go on a hike."

She shrugged. "I'm not really in a hiking mood today."

His face filled with concern for her. "I know what this means for you," he pointed to the ship anchored just offshore. "We won't let anything happen to you. Hurley's offered to pay them off, everyone's offering to contribute. You can stay at my house if you don't have anywhere to go."

She hated having to lie to him. "I'm staying with my dad. It's been awhile, so . . . "

Jack nodded, not seeing through her lie. It was a believable enough story, and partly true. She wanted to see Sam Austen. He _was_ her father, no matter what the truth was.

"Well, we'd better get going. See you on the ship, okay? Be safe. Stay out of trouble." The last statement was more a warning than a suggestion, but she nodded anyway.

He turned, starting up toward where the group was preparing to set out. As an afterthought, Kate called after him. He turned, and she crossed the distance between them.

"Don't get–killed out there, okay? That–thing, that monster. And the Others, be careful, okay?"

"You worried about me?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt. Please, be careful."

He nodded and looked at her for a moment, a look of hesitation on his face. Then, he dropped his pack on the sand and put his arms around her. She stiffened at first, almost stunned by his audacity, especially with all the others milling around. She finally relaxed and let her own arms go around to hug him, tightening around the muscles of his back. She shut her eyes, trying to memorize this moment. She breathed in his scent, sweat mixed with the tangy scent of fruit, and some brand of very nice smelling cologne. That made her inwardly smile to know he still used cologne, even on the island.

She made up her mind that Jack deserved better than her. Whatever she felt for him, she had to let those feelings go. When they returned to society, he would be hailed as a hero. If she was lucky, she'd be serving jail time. He couldn't be seen with a farm girl turned fugitive. He was supposed to find a nice wife with blonde hair to give him nice little well-behaved children. They'd go to fancy portrait studios and maybe someday she'd get a picture of him with his family. She would never belong to that happy family scene.

She let herself pull away from his hold and watched him search her eyes for answers. She gave nothing up. He nodded, picked up his bag, and went to join the others. She watched them go for a moment, then went to gather her things. She waited on the shore with Sawyer as a smaller boat ferried people to the larger one. She gave her name as Joanna's, and no questions were asked. The two of them were put in a room with double bunks. She felt slightly uncomfortable being alone in a room with him, so she joined most of the others on deck, scanning the trees, waiting, watching, wondering.

They returned early the following morning with not only Walt in tow, but Rousseau and a dark-haired girl that Rousseau said was her daughter. The others offered no explanation. Kate didn't ask. Without Jack around, she had nothing else to ground her. She told herself she didn't mind having sex with Sawyer. He was good, and she hadn't been with anyone in months. On the soft feather bunk bed she fell asleep in the warmth of Sawyer's arms and had the best sleep she'd had in months.

Kate would never forget the look on his face that morning when he saw her leaving Sawyer's cabin on the ship. He was hurt, she could tell. She started to explain, but he disappeared inside his own room without a word. When the others tried to coax him out, he told them he was seasick. To everyone else, the fact that their brave doctor was seasick was amusing. To Kate, it was painful. She tried his door once or twice, but he never answered her knocks. When the ship docked in LA, Kate and Sawyer vanished into the crowd, leaving the others behind to tell their story. By the time the confusion with Joanna was resolved, they were comfortably settled at Sawyer's place. The FBI called off their manhunt. Someone had pulled strings. She never found out who, but not that it mattered. She was a free woman.

She and Sawyer had been living together seven months. He was very needy, she found, to the point of exhaustion for her. He drank too much, but then so did she, and they made a strange couple. Being with Sawyer, she was reminded of her own childhood, the strangeness of being his arm candy at bars and walking around the house in underwear and a long t-shirt. She drank so much that first month she suffered a hangover on a daily basis, and ended up in the hospital for a night. But this was where she belonged.

That summer, Jack invited everyone to his house for an Independence Day party. Even those who weren't Americans showed up, bound by an unspoken bond to one another. It was the first time Kate had seen Jack since their rescue. He attempted to maintain a safe distance between them the entire day, and every time she tried to talk to him, he would make up a hurried excuse.

"You going to ignore me this whole day?" Kate asked, having finally cornered him.

"I don't have anything to say to you," He told her calmly.

"Jack, I'm sorry–"

"Obviously not." He nodded his head toward Sawyer. "I always thought . . . " he trailed off and sighed. "Well, good luck."

He got up and left her standing there, stunned and angry. She wanted to remain friendly with him at least, but he continued to ignore her. She wandered around, talking to everyone else, pretending nothing was wrong. Claire asked her what was bothering her, but she lied and told her it was just PMS. It was obvious that Claire didn't believe her.

Amid the party, there was a loud commotion from the house. Despite her habit of nosiness, Kate didn't follow the small group into to investigate. She heard later from Sun that Jack and Sawyer had a fistfight in the kitchen. Kate had a feeling she knew what the cause of the fight was. When she and Sawyer drove home after the party, she asked him what had happened, he said simply, "Doc's jealous."

When they got together for the anniversary of the crash, Jack wasn't there. He didn't go to the Thanksgiving dinner Hurley threw, and he was absent at the Christmas party at Charlie and Claire's. She would sometimes catch a clip on him on television, doing something heroic. Two years came and went. She kept telling herself she was happy being with Sawyer. On good days, he could be a gentleman. But she had learned quickly that he was not the type of man who stuck around in long-term relationships. Because she didn't have anyplace else to go, she remained at his house, sleeping with and next to him. Some nights she fell asleep before he got home and the next morning, would find a pair of underwear–not hers–on the floor in the guest bedroom. He began suggesting she get a job, find her own place. She stuck around, letting him yell at her because she told herself she deserved it.

The last straw was when he hit her. She made excuses for him before when he was too drunk and pushed her around or yelled at her. This was different. He was sober this time, and she felt the sting of his hand on her cheek long after it happened. While he was gone, she took a wad of bills and a gun from his sock drawer, grabbed her things and left, not bothering to look back.

She took a Greyhound bus to Los Angeles, and a taxi to Jack's house. It had been almost three years since she had last seen him at the Independence Day party. She wondered if he was still the same man as he had been on the island. Clutching her bag, she knocked on his door.

She heard his voice inside say, "Coming!" and his footsteps. Kate pulled off her sunglasses, not needing them in the fading like of the cool June evening. She was nervous, her heart was racing. She heard the door unlocking, and then it opened and there he was. His face changed from casual nonchalance to disbelief.

"Kate?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Hey,"

He rubbed his hand over his close-cropped hair with a sigh. "It's not a good time."

"I just want to talk. Sawyer kind of kicked me out. Or I left, I'm not really sure. I just need a place to stay until I can--"

"Kate, this really isn't a good time."

"I won't stay long, I promise, I–"

"Jack, who's at the door?"

Kate's face fell. A woman's voice. She looked at him in stunned silence.

"I told you this wasn't a good time," he pressed, his eyes pleading with her to leave. She tried to look past him into the house.

"Jack?" The voice came again, louder. A slim, blonde woman ducked under his arm and gazed with interest at Kate.

"You know this woman?"

Jack stared down at Kate, still pleading with his eyes. Kate held his look, as if daring him to look away first.

"Baby?" The woman questioned again. "You're blanking out on me, Jack."

He broke eye contact first, inhaling sharply and looking down at the blonde woman.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I know her."


	2. Chapter 2

"From the plane crash, really?" The woman named Elaine said excitedly. She grinned at Kate. "Will you tell me all about that? Jack never wants to talk about it. Says it was all just a bad memory."

The three of them were sitting in the front room, Kate in an armchair, Jack and Elaine on the couch. She was exactly the type of woman Kate imagined Jack should be with, beautiful, intellectual, good family background, a trophy wife for him to parade in front of his colleagues at fancy dinner parties, a woman who looked the other way when her husband watched other women walk by, who kept her mouth shut and raised their children in their comfortable home in the suburbs. She reminded Kate a little of Shannon, although without the attitude.

"It's been three years. Over three years. It's hard to remember now."

"Must have been very exciting," Elaine said dreamily. "Beautiful beaches, lots of healthy fruits, perfect air, sunny. Sounds like paradise."

Kate looked at Jack, as if to say, _Is she serious?_ He looked away. Elaine glanced at Jack, then to Kate, and hopped up from the couch. "Gotta check on the roast. You'll stay for dinner, then, um...?"

"Kate."

"Kate, right. You're staying?"

Her eyes flickered to Jack's, and she nodded. "Just for a while. I don't eat meat."

Elaine nodded, "I used to be a vegetarian. Jack changed my mind." She gave his shoulders a rub and Kate felt a roar of jealousy.

"When?" She demanded, after Elaine had disappeared into the kitchen.

"When what?" He asked, fiddling with the gold band around his finger.

"That, the ring. Her ring. When?"

"Almost two years ago. In November." He muttered. "What do you want?"

"I need a place to stay for a couple of days. Just until I get back on my feet."

"Not here. You can't stay here."

"It's only for a while."

She pressed until he agreed, thought she noted his reluctance. She shrugged it off. While Elaine was busy in the kitchen, the two of them talked about what had happened the past three years. She told him how desperately she had wanted a baby, how Sawyer refused, saying it would tie him down. Jack told her how his mother had introduced him to Elaine, how he had proposed to her at the Greenbrier Resort in West Virginia. They spoke carefully, neither of them treading over the subject of their island romance. She started to bring up the others, but Elaine poked her head out of the kitchen to tell them that it was time for dinner.

She left her belongings in her bag, not intending to stay long. The guest bedroom she'd been given was painted pale yellow, empty save for a wooden pine dresser and a bed, a single window looking out into the large backyard. The bed had freshly pressed white sheets and a bright yellow comforter. The walls were bare, for the most part, except a small painting hanging above the bed.

Dressed in her pajamas, a long white shirt and a pair of track pants. She was pulling back the blankets to get into the bed, when there was a soft knock on the door. She answered it, and Jack was there, looking at her nervously.

"Can I come in?" He asked. She stepped to the side in reply, watching him curiously. He sat down on the bed and looked up at her. She shut the door softly and turned to look at him again.

"I can't do this, Kate." He admitted. "This whole marriage is a lie." She felt sorry for him, and went to sit next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I don't have long, she's in the shower. Maybe fifteen minutes. We need to talk."

"Okay," she said, waiting. He took a deep breath.

"You know I've always felt something for you. I still do. I married her because my mother told me I needed to get over you. But I can't get over you, Kate. But I can't divorce Elaine either. I have to get rid of her somehow. I just don't think I can–"

She put a hand over his mouth. "Don't worry about it. I'm only staying a few days. This is your life now. Stay with her. You deserve to grow old with her. You don't want me. I'm broken and used."

He pulled her hand away, and his touch sent shivers up her spine. "I do want you," he said, in a voice she'd never heard from him before. "I don't want a trophy wife." She let him kiss her, didn't protest when he pulled her shirt off and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor beside them. He didn't protest when she pulled his shirt off, or when she pushed her tongue deeper into his mouth. She arched her back and moaned softly when he gently pushed her back against the pillows, his fingers tracing circles on her stomach. She lay back, her hair splayed across the pillow, panting softly, watching as his eyes took in her almost-naked body. She had never wanted anything so much in her life than him, here, now. It was hot, and the sweat rolled down his face. She propped herself up by her elbows and grabbed his belt buckle, loosening the strap and pulling it off. She threw the belt on the floor and bent low to unbutton his pants. She easily wiggled out of her too-large jeans, kicking them onto the floor. They were both breathing heavily, staring into each others eyes. She wondered vaguely if what they were about to do would mean anything to either of them, or if it was just meaningless. At that moment, she didn't care. It took her a second to realize he had pulled his boxers off, and tossed them carelessly to the side, her underwear with them. He was looking at her with the strangest look, but she put her arm around his neck and pulled him close, letting fate take over.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack left early the next morning for work, leaving the two women alone in the house. Kate slept in late. When she finally got up, she saw that he had put all of her clothes back on and smiled at his thoughtfulness. She knew now what she had to do as she dressed. It was nearing two in the afternoon, and if she waited, she might never get another chance. She took all of the sheets from the bed and folded them up, placing them in the dresser. When the police came, they wouldn't think anything of the empty guest room and the bed with no sheets. She didn't worry about fingerprints. She had long ago learned that they were a hindrance. Her fingers left no marks.

Kate grabbed her bag, making her way quietly down the stairs and found Elaine reclining in the living room, reading a magazine. Kate rubbed her hands against the back of her jeans.

"I'm sorry," Kate whispered. Elaine turned to look at her.

"What?"

"He's mine," Kate continued. "He doesn't love you. He's never loved you. But he won't divorce you because he's too much of a gentleman to hurt your feelings. I have to do this, and I hope you'll understand. I love him too much to lose him now. I'm sorry."

She had time to register the woman's stunned look as she pulled the .9 millimeter from the back of her jeans. Kate aimed for the woman's heart and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore into her chest and Elaine screamed in pain. Kate fired again, ripping a hole in her throat. The third bullet narrowly missed her, and Kate cursed. Kate moved over to gaze down at the body. She was still alive, though her breathing was labored, and she was struggling. Kate aimed the gun at Elaine's head, looking into the woman's eyes, full of fear. She wondered if Jack had taught her to count to five. It didn't matter now, and the irony amused her.

"Sorry,"

She pulled the trigger.

---  
She let the police come and question him while she watched from the park across the street. When his house was once again quiet, she knocked on the front door. She expected him to pull her into an embrace, tell her how much he missed her, and now that his wife was out of the way, they could have something again. Sensible doctor that he was, she should have known better.

His eyes were red from crying, and there were new lines on his face she hadn't seen before. She tried to put her arms around him, not in a romantic hug, but for some comfort. He backed away from her, breathing heavily and staring. She stood in the door frame, her arms still outstretched, stunned.

"Why did you kill her, Kate?" His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been yelling. She opened her mouth, a lie already forming, but he held up a hand.

"Don't," he said angrily. "You don't get to make excuses for yourself. You don't get to come here and ruin my life. You killed someone I loved!"

"You told me you didn't love her!" Kate said, moving into the house and shutting the door behind her. "You told me you didn't want a trophy wife!"

"No," he shook his head, backing up to sit on his couch. She followed, shutting the door behind her. "You don't understand. She wasn't just any woman. She wasn't like you. She was different, and you wouldn't understand. I could have talked to her."

"That's not what you told me, Jack." She yelled, balling up her fists. "You told me you wanted to get rid of her!"

"I didn't mean for her to die. That wasn't supposed to happen. I was going to talk to her, make her understand. She would understand. She was like that."

"It was the only way." Kate said, trying to convince herself as much as him. She didn't need to die, but it was the easiest solution, in her eyes.

Jack slumped in his seat, not looking up at her. "The night you showed up she told me she had a surprise for me. When you came, I thought it was you. That wasn't it. She told me that night, after we." He paused, a broken sob escaping his lips. "She was pregnant, Kate. Two months pregnant with my child."

All at once, a roar filled her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut. Pregnant?

"Why didn't you–" He kneaded his forehead with his fingers, still not looking at her. "I waited two years for you and you never came. None of this would have happened. It wasn't supposed to happen."

"I thought you wanted me," she said, enraged.

"I was tired of waiting for you. It's why we waited so long to have children. I thought you might come back, and I thought I might have the courage to leave her. When she told me that we were going to have a baby–I couldn't leave her. And you killed her. You killed them both."

She looked up at him, tears spilling from her eyes. "I didn't know,"

"Would it have made any difference if you had?"

When Kate didn't reply, Jack stood. "You have to leave. I can't look at you, I can't be in the same room as you anymore."

She got to her feet, and picked up her bag. "I _am_ sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too."

She made her way to the front door, and stopped before pulling it open, to turn and look back at him. He looked so vulnerable, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. "I love you," she muttered, watching his response.

"Yeah." He said stonily. "I wish you'd realized it sooner. It's too late now."

"Can I have an hour?"

"For what?"

"A head-start. You're going to tell the police I was here. Let me have an hour."

"I didn't tell them. I'm not going to tell them. Just go, before they come back."

She stared at him for a moment, then pulled open the door and disappeared into the night. When she turned one last time to look at his house, she saw him standing in the doorway, watching after her. She took a deep breath. And ran.

She hitched rides through the States and by the year's end, reached Alaska, the one state she'd never visited. She crossed into Russia undetected on a small tramp steamer and made her way across the vast Siberian tundra, haggling with old Russian peasant women for a warm fur coat. She assimilated herself as she made her way into the European Russia, and traveled through Scandinavia: Finland she stayed only two days, she spent a week in Norway, and another in Sweden, crossing into Denmark. From Denmark, she made her way to Belgium, then into France. She visited Normandy and the cemetery there, wondering. She traveled to Calais, then took the Chunnel into England, hoping to rest. It was June again. She'd been running for a year.


	4. Chapter 4

She was at a coffee shop in Brighton when she heard. There was a radio broadcast. She left the shop without paying, caught a taxi and arrived at the nearest airport in record time. She still had leftover money from what she'd taken from Sawyer, and she bribed the officials to let her on the next plane to LA. She lied and told them that her husband and children had just been in a house fire and she had been mugged on the way to the airport. She always kept her money in her shoe, she explained, but her passport and IDs were all gone. They let her on after much hand-wringing, and by the evening, the plane landed in LA. A taxi took her to the house, where she learned from Sayid what had happened.

For the year after she had left, Jack had slowly crumbled. His colleagues said he had no spirit anymore, and they assumed it was because his wife had been murdered. The coroner had learned of Elaine's pregnancy and the manhunt was on, though the police did not know who they were looking for. He had talked with some of the others, told them how depressed he was. He attended all of the Flight 815 gatherings that year, and everyone noticed how much older he looked. At the gathering in April, he had told them he would like to throw the Independence Day party again. It was the last time any of them saw Jack alive.

The official cause of death was two self-inflicted gunshot wounds, one to his head, one to his heart. Two guns, two bullets. One dead doctor. Someone handed her a hastily scribbled note, addressed simply, _Kate_. She opened the envelope slowly. The others backed away, sensing her need for space. The handwriting was shaky, dated only the week before. Tiny wrinkles in the paper showed her he'd been crying when he wrote it.

_I see you every night in my dreams. I know you'll never come back because you think I hate you. I'm going crazy, and I haven't been able to continue my life. I lost them, and I lost you in a week's time. It's been a year, and nothing's changed. This is better, trust me. I'm sorry for what I did. I know you'll understand._

At his funeral, she sat in stony silence, rising only when they were allowed to file past his coffin to pay their respects. Jack's mother, draped in black, was sobbing. The casket was open, and the funeral parlor had done an amazing job of fixing him. He was still pale, but he looked more at peace than she'd ever seen him. She began to cry, and Hurley came to hug her, patting her back. Jack's mother came from her grief to glare at Kate.

"You!" she spat, voice full of venom. "It was you, you little whore. You ruined his life!" She proceeded to scream obscenities at Kate, who blanched, taking a step back. As the woman piled insults, Kate just stood there, taking it. The congregation sat in shocked silence, until Kate felt Sayid pulling her away. A man in an expensive suit pulled the screaming woman back, whispering something about respect for her son.

"It's her fault he's done this to himself!" She shrieked, then broke down into sobs against Jack's casket, crying, "First his father, now him!"

Sayid guided her to the front door. "Maybe it's best if you leave now, Kate." He told her seriously. She shook her head, trying to pull away. She had to get to Jack. Maybe he was still alive. Why was everyone standing there? Why weren't they digging? Jack was trapped in the cave, why was everyone just letting him die? She tried to get to the pile of stones, but something was holding her back...

"Kate!" Sayid raised his voice slightly, bringing her back to the present. She was breathing heavily, and a number of people were staring at her.

"Go. There's nothing more for you here. Please, leave."

She left the funeral parlor and wandered aimlessly through downtown Los Angeles. Over the next month, her mugshot flashed across television screens and was tacked up in post offices and public places. There was no doubt in her mind that he had turned her in before he had killed himself, perhaps to justify his death for her own. They arrested her as she tried to flee the country, and the judge condemned her to death by lethal injection. She waited in prison for six long years before it was her turn, not allowed to receive visitors, though no one came, not even the other survivors. In her last weeks, pale and too skinny from prison food, she asked to see a priest, even though she wasn't Catholic, and she confessed. As they strapped her into the chair, she thought, maybe, if there was a heaven, if she could get in, Jack would surely be there, waiting for her. Her breathing increased rapidly, and for once, she had never been so afraid in her entire life. Her mind flickered back to a day nearly a decade ago, when she had come to in the middle of the jungle, her handcuffs gone and wandered into a clearing, coming upon a shirtless man kneeling in the sand. Remembering her sudden fear, remembering his warm smile, friendly face, assurance that yes, she could do this.

She let the fear in. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._ And it was gone.

--

A/N: Tell me what you think, it means a lot. I hope the ending wasn't too depressing for everyone.


End file.
